


The Aftermath

by ballerinaroy



Series: The Aftermath [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-Deathly Hallows, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-05 23:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14629625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: What if Hermione had not escaped Malfoy Manor? Sacrificing herself to ensure Ron and Harry's safety, Hermione is kept as a prisoner after the events of Malfoy Manor. With Hermione presumed dead, aurors Ron and Harry are just as surprised as anyone when two and a half years later a report comes in there is a familiar looking prisoner being kept in the basement of an abandoned mansion.This story follows Hermione through the four years after her rescue as she struggles with the trauma she experienced while trying to rebuild her relationship with Ron.





	1. The First Year

**Author's Note:**

> This work deals very heavily with the symptoms of PTSD and trauma. While this story contains no graphic descriptions of violence, there are heavy themes throughout this work.

When they finally find her, she doesn’t seem pleased to see them. Hermione doesn’t cry or respond when they wrap their arms around her and sob. Ron supposed she was just in shock. She had never expected to see them again or for they to be the ones bursting through the dungeon door. She allows them to take her hands and wrap their arms around her shoulders and hides behind them as they pass through the rows and rows of Aurors, but it feels mechanical. And when the startling flash of a rogue reporter comes out at them from behind the gates she doesn’t even flinch. In the picture published in the next day’s Prophet, she looks as pale as a ghost and still quite afraid. 

They take her back to the safe house, a compromise with Gawain from the high-security facility he wanted her in, and she showers then dresses on command, sipping at the soup Ron had brought home from Sunday dinner, Hermione’s favorite. So happy she was finally back, finally, where he could see her and touch her, he doesn’t notice she hadn’t said a word.

Hermione doesn’t say anything in fact except to give a statement to Gawain, her eyes far off when she spoke in a mechanical voice, deepened by misuse and screams. In detail, she describes all she can remember, more than enough for the charges, but sounds so detached, as if she was recounting it from a book. She doesn’t notice when Gawain clears his throat, a sign she could pause, nor does she cry when talking about all of the ways they'd molested her. All those around her cringe and look away when she shows them the scars for the pictures. Some of her wounds are still fresh. But she’s unfazed when Gawain demands a healer sooner rather than later. The scars cover her body and the lack of sun make her skin so white it’s almost translucent.

When they stay the night she doesn’t protest. But she gets too close to the edge of the bed, refusing to cuddle with them as she once had. When Ron touches her back to pull her close, she shies away. Ron can’t bring himself to say anything. He wakes in the middle of the night to find Hermione laying in front of the window, staring out at the night sky expression still blank. In the morning he can’t wipe the smile off his face, but can’t recall a time where the corners of her lips curve.

She reads a book and they play chess, trying to ignore the Aurors stationed outside what seems every window. When Ron looks up at her to make sure she was still there, a schoolboy grin still on plastered on his face, she’s never reading, her eyes fixed out the window where the breeze dances through the tree. The questions they ask her only receive grunts and sighs and when unable to she gives short one-word answers. They both are worried terribly about her but don’t know what to do so let her be.

Eventually, they have to go back to work, leaving her alone with the Aurors standing guard. But over time when there’s no threat of retaliation, the Auror numbers dwindle until someone stops by every hour to check on her. Each night Harry and Ron pop over to see her sitting in the same chair with the same vacant expression on her face, staring out the window with no pretext of even reading a book though they offer her everything.

Weeks pass and one night over dinner with Gawain, they approach her with the idea of moving out, into Ron’s flat or the burrow, but she simply shakes her head at each suggestion, finally looking at Gawain.

“Can’t I stay here?” she asks of him, looking straight past Ron.

Confident she’d want to move out and regain the freedom lost, Gawain had never suspected her proposal. “Why would you want to stay here?” he asks of her, looking for the first time Ron and Harry could ever recall, uncomfortable. “There’s nothing nearby and the closest market-“

“I can pay rent.” She continues, face void of emotion.

“That won’t be necessary,” Gawain mutters and she nods, standing up and leaving the room without another word.

Over time the auror visits dwindle and stop altogether after the trial ends. Thirty life sentences to her captors and ten to the men they found working in the home. Ron delivers the news with a bottle of champagne, picking her up and spinning her around. She doesn’t protest when he kisses her but doesn’t kiss with any enthusiasm either. Harry and Ginny stop by and Hermione drinks and laughs but the smile never quite meets her eyes.

Weeks pass, Ron still stopping by her place every night though even Harry’s visits had become less frequent. Once a week his mother stops by, cleaning the house and making sure Hermione has food stocked. She chatters away, and Hermione follows her around the house like a young child. She does two loads of laundry and leaves the dryer running when she departs, but each week comes back to the load wrinkled and still in the place she left it.

He makes her dinner and talks about his day, but still, she never answers. The leftovers he leaves for her are never touched and even when summer comes her skin stays as pale as the day they found her. For months he visits her daily, but no matter what he tries he can finally see she’s fading.

A year passes since her rescue and still, she feels as distant as the day she came home. Harry’s visits had finally stopped and when Ron made up his mind to confront him, the guilt in Harry’s eyes stops him. One Saturday he stops by to find Hermione hadn’t left the chair he’d left her in the night before. She’d drug it to below the window where she can look out at the overgrown yard and dying forest in the distance.

Unable to find the strength to convince her to stand, Ron falls in the chair beside her and stares with her, reaching over to open the window as she likes. She never seemed to notice he was there, but he knows she does, it was simply she doesn't care. His week at work had been terrible, his partner getting attacked on the job and still in the hospital while the woman they'd been tasked with protecting had died in his watch. For the first time since the war, he’d killed, not on purpose, and been called in from his field duties while the case was under review. 

Seeing her was the only thing keeping him going until the end of the week, but seeing her always broke his heart. Bravely he reached out, putting his hand on hers and she wrapped her fingers around him tenderly. It was the only affection she’d show willingly, holding his hand. Her eyes turn to him, waiting for him to speak and instead tears filled his eyes as he thought of the week she would never ask about and the life he couldn’t bear to give up.

They don’t talk about it, the night she’d been left behind. Harry blamed himself, though Ron blamed himself more. She had sacrificed herself so they could escape, impaling herself on Bellatrix’s knife and causing so much blood to spill the floor was slick when Ron got to her. They thought her dead, a sacrifice to the war and Harry pulled him from her body. They ended the war positive they'd never see her again, never even recover her body to get a proper burial.

Together Harry and Ron had joined the Aurors, everything they did in her memory. On a routine stakeout at old death eater home, an Auror had reported seeing a girl who looked like a ghost wandering the halls. Ron hadn’t allowed hope until they saw her, sitting in a stiff chair with a far off look and an inability to focus her eyes. But Hermione had died one day years ago and had been returned ghost who looked like her and wasted away.

“Will you marry me?” he asks her suddenly causing her eyes to blink into focus.

She looks at him with genuine curiosity and spoke for the first time in weeks aside from pleasantries. “Would it make you happy?”

Expecting a rejection, he watched her and mulled it over for a long moment and then finally sighed. There was nothing romantic about it, but there was never anything romantic about them, not since her capture. She would kiss him when he kissed her and they'd had sex a handful of times before Ron decided the far-off look in her eyes, no matter how careful and loving he was, wasn’t worth it.

“I already take care of you.” He answers, her, “I spend every night here and-“

“I never asked you to,” she replied and it was the longest conversation Ron could remember having with her.

He blinked, squeezing her hand. “What do you want Hermione?”

Her hair fluttered in the hot air. “I want to sit in this chair and stare out at the sun.”

“You could go out you know.” He told her and she looks at him again.

“If I go out they’ll find me.” She answers plainly and the lack of emotion broke his heart.

He gripped her hand tighter and she waited for him to reply, to tell her wrong though he doesn't have the heart to upset her. “You never answered me.”

“You never answered me.” She told him.

“Yes,” he said, and for a moment it doesn't feel like a lie.

There wasn’t even the ghost of a smile when she nods her consent.


	2. The Second Year

A week later he moves in, his things filling the empty house Hermione never bothered to decorate. For the first time, the safe house begins to feel like they live there. His partner dies the next week and Ron takes the time off, putting his frustrations into the home, painting the walls and fixing the second to bottom stair the squeaked whenever he walked down it. When there’s nothing left to do in the home he goes outside, clearing the bushes and trimming the trees. But even yard work only takes him an afternoon when Harry comes to help, he and Ginny over to give them a housewarming gift. At his sister’s suggestion, he starts on a garden, plowing the ground under the window where Hermione sits. He feels her eyes on him from time to time as he tears up the land, his mother offering to come over a plant things the next day.

When the sun begins to set, Ron is surprised when Hermione comes out to the porch, a cold glass of lemonade in hand and offers it to him. They don’t talk about it, but when Ron wakes up in the middle of the night to her screaming she allows him to hold her, gripping to his shirt with one hand and the bedsheets with the other.

The next week everything gets planted, flowers and bushes from his mother’s garden. They even plant a small vegetable garden near the porch and gripping Ron’s hand, Hermione ventures out at dusk to admire his handy work. Harry and Ginny come over for dinner, bringing news of their engagement (Harry saying “We figured if you two are going to, then it’s about time we tied the knot” when the girls are out of earshot).

For the first time, they can remember Hermione drinks more than she should and her cheeks take on a pink tint. She laughs and to everyone’s surprise, says yes when Ginny asks her to be a bridesmaid. Harry and Ginny don’t leave until four in the morning and when Ron offers to clean up, Hermione, for the first time, kisses him goodnight before stumbling up the stairs.

The next morning Hermione doesn't get out of bed. She vomits everything Ron makes her drink and eat and refuses to do anything more than roll over and wither. For a week she doesn’t get out of bed. A healer visit can find nothing wrong though Hermione loses a stone and can’t shut her eyes. Finally, Ron gives in, laying down beside her on his stomach like her and stares into her eyes desperately.

 

“What do you want Hermione?” he asks, taking her hand in his and her eyes focus on him. “I’ll give you anything. If you had one wish what would it be?”

She stares at him and finally her cracked lips part and she whispers. “I wish you’d never saved me from the troll.”

Her words hurt worse than the time he’d been cursoied for hours and she doesn’t seem to care, staring at him with the same emotionless expression. His chest feels heavy and he doesn’t bother to turn off the lights, instead of passing out in the same position, their hands still intertwined. The next morning Hermione rises before dawn and takes her chair.

Unable to look at her, Ron takes his frustrations out on the dead tree eating away at their forest. He can feel Hermione’s eyes on him but doesn’t bother looking back. In the evening Gawain comes with the news he’s been found with no fault in the trial and doesn’t comment on the fact Ron has been using an ax rather than magic.

Hermione makes dinner and they sit on the porch, feet dangling over the withering plants. They sit within arms reach and when they finish Ron gives up, laying back on the porch, his eyes still stinging from the dirt and his chest heavy with the sadness inside. Hermione reaches for his hand and he weakly grips hers back.

“I didn’t mean it,” she whispers, staring out at the dead tree, now half demolished, sitting in a large pile waiting to be burned.

Ron followed her eyes and shook his head. “Yeah, you did.”

She doesn’t argue and his heart sinks, tears coming to his eyes. Hermione scoots closer until their hips touch and she grips his hand, bringing it up to kiss the back of it. They don’t talk anymore, finally getting up and Hermione does the dishes while Ron washes his face and hands. When it grows dark, he takes her hand and leads her outside to the pile waiting to be burned. To his surprise, and for the first time in years, Hermione takes his wand and waves it with the same familiarity he misses. Her spell isn’t powerful, but the sparks are enough to light a small flame which grows to life with a drying spell Hermione instructs him on. They stand hand in hand, watching as the flames grow, finally burning down the old tree.

“Why do you stay with me?” Hermione asks in a small voice.

“Because I can’t imagine my life without you.” He answers and it’s not a lie.

Hermione’s arms wrap around his middle and they hold each other, watching the flames grow quickly and burn through the wood, and they cuddle closer in the crisp fall air. Eventually, they sit and then lie down, looking up at the stars and are both surprised when Hermione lays her head on his chest, closing her eyes in contentment.

The fire dies down to embers and they go back inside, smelling of fire and the night air. Hermione joins him in the shower, kissing his back and her arms wrapping around his middle. They barely get rid of the smell before stumbling out, hands on each other and longing in Hermione’s eyes. For the first time since they moved in with one another, they make love and for the first time in the year and a half since she was rescued Ron doesn’t feel like he’s taking advantage.

On Monday Ron returns to work, jumping at every movement on a routine patrol. Halfway through the day he’s called back to the office and the next day his partner is replaced by Harry who’s easy jokes and familiar friendship made him feel normal. At night he goes home to dinner on the table, Hermione slowly learning how to cook without burning everything.

They visit Harry and Ginny’s for the first time one weekend after Ginny’s insistence about feeling bad they spent every Friday night at their house and the liquor store owner now knew their names as are there every week to pick up a bottle. Ron goes home under the pretext of washing up, to find Hermione sitting on the couch, looking nervous and flipping through a cookbook much too quickly to be reading. Ron kisses her hello before running to change quickly as to give them as much time as they needed. Hermione takes his hand the moment he sat down beside her, kissing her forehead once more.

“You look nice,” Ron tells her and she smiled, looking down at the jumper she hadn’t worn in a long time and jeans she’d actually put on enough weight to keep on her hips.

“You got the wine, right?” she asks and he nods, gesturing back to the bag he’d set on the counter.

She squeezes his hand in thanks and looks back at him nervously for a moment before marking her place in the book and sets it down on the coffee table.

“You alright?” he asks as she puts on a jacket, which Ron doesn't see much of a point for as they'll be going straight from their front porch to theirs.

She nods, handing him his jacket which he puts on without protest, picking up their things from the kitchen and shutting off the lights. They stepped out onto their front porch and it was then Hermione turned to him taking his hand worriedly. He adjusted the things in his arms and wrapped his arm around her the best he could, kissing her forehead and disapparated.

When they land Hermione looks unsteady on her feet as she looks around, her face a color Ron doesn't like. He doesn't bother knocking, instead opens the door to Harry and Ginny’s flat and ushering Hermione inside. By the time Ginny comes to the front, chastising them for being early, Hermione looks less worried, though once their jackets are off her hand won’t leave his.

Harry takes them on a tour of the flat they'll soon be giving up for a house he and Ginny had picked out to renovate. Dinner goes smoothly, Hermione finally relaxing enough to let to go his hand though her feet rest against his throughout the meal. Conversations quickly turn to wedding plans and Ginny went on telling Ron about their issues with the guest list already, Hermione having heard it all when Ginny had stopped by for tea on her off day during the week.

“Have you set a date?” Ron asks her, as Harry refills his glass.

“We should be asking you the same,” Ginny quips and Ron had a nagging feeling this was the reason they’d been so anxious to get them over. “It’s been half a year, I feel like you should be more eager than us.”

Ron looks to Hermione hopelessly who smiled at him the same way she would’ve before and takes his hand. “We’re taking things one step at a time,” she said smoothly and Harry nods.

“We just don't want you to feel like we are stepping on your toes,” Harry explains Ginny’s expression. “We’d like to get married at the end of the season in early June so we'll have plenty of time to work on the house after.”

“The garden will be so pretty then,” Hermione answers smoothly, giving an easy smile. “We’re in no hurry, honestly. I haven’t even begun to think about it. You should get married when you want.”

Ginny beamed at them, standing up and walking around the table to hug Hermione, sitting on her lap. “Oh, you’re the best future sister-in-law.”

Hermione laughs and with refilled glasses they toast to each other, breaking out the pie Hermione had made and spent the rest of the night talking about what Ginny had already planned and the new house.

“Have you thought about it?” Ron asks when they got ready for bed, Hermione’s cheeks still rosy as she sat on the bed and flipped through the same cookbook.

“Hurm?” Hermione asks, of him, eyes still on the page.

“Getting married.” He continues and could see her eyes had stopped moving. “If you still want to that is.”

She looks up at him with a neutral expression. “I still want to as long as you do,” she answers and he grins, climbing under the covers next to her and kissing her briefly. She snuggles against him and shrugs. “I’ve never put much thought into it honestly. Things are just starting to get back in order. And now we’re going to have to wait until Harry and Ginny get married at least.”  
“What would you like?” he asks of her, “For our wedding?”

“I always imagined it at the Burrow, in the garden,” she answers, taking off her reading glasses and lay her head against his shoulder. “Something small, just family and close friends. Nothing really fancy, just,” she pauses for a moment, trying to come up with the words to explain it. “Just us, getting married.”

It was the first time she’d said married and us in the same sentence and Ron can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face even the next day when his mother comes over and officially pronounces their tomato plants dead. For the first time since she comes back, Hermione lectures him. Though it only makes her angrier, Ron can’t help but smile when she chastises him on leaving the cap off the toothpaste. He sleeps on the couch that night though he’s a foot too tall. In the middle of the night one of the springs break through but he still can’t help but feel like things are finally back to normal.

The first overnight assignment since his partner’s death comes too soon, even though he’s partnered with Harry and they’re only doing security for a visiting minister (Harry always gets called for these assignments and though he hates it, when Kingsley asks he never says no). In the days leading up, Hermione becomes increasingly nervous. He offers to call it off but she insists he goes though he hates leaving her alone, Ginny on tour and Molly only able to stop by for a few hours.

When he comes home in the afternoon Hermione’s sitting in her chair looking nervous and when she hugs him she doesn’t let go. The next few days she won’t leave his side, sitting in the bed as he naps and when he wakes up she’s staring at him blankly. She kisses him and cries and makes him never want to leave again.

The winter is rough, Ron comes home to Hermione sitting in her chair and when she greets him and asks about his day her smile is forced and their kisses feel mechanical again. The only time she feels real is when she holds his hand at night when she thinks he’s asleep she lays her head on his chest to hear him breathing.

They don’t leave the house much. The little shopping Hermione had taken on ceasing and Molly stops by every other day to make sure she’s still alright. A snowstorm comes out of nowhere in the middle of the day and Ron returns home to Hermione sobbing in the middle of the darkened living room, freezing to the touch, and refusing to let him hold her. Their fire had been blown out, the back door knocked in, and the house is too cold for warming spells.

He takes her to Harry’s and Ginny gets her a warm bath and convinces Hermione to put on something proper. She refuses to eat until Ginny threatens to call Molly and finally sips on some broth which Ginny spikes with dreamless sleep potion. Hermione passes out on the couch and Ron sobs in Harry’s arms. She falls ill and spends the next week on the couch, refusing to take Harry and Ginny’s bed no matter how much they insist. Ron sleeps on the floor beside her, holding her hand and waking every hour to check she’s still breathing.

They stay at their flat through Christmas, Ron going back to find a tree taking out half of the upstairs. Repairs will cost more than a down payment on a new home, but when he tells Hermione this she gives him such a sad look he can’t contact the repairmen soon enough. Christmas day they venture to the Burrow, only the second time Hermione’d visited and never with so many people. Her hand doesn’t leave his and she only smiles when Victorie, now 3 and a half, comes in the room and hands Hermione a flower she’d stolen from the bouquet someone had brought for Molly.

At dinner, Hermione barely eats and looks nervously at the Christmas crackers. The moment desert was served and the first one was pulled, Hermione leaves the room so quickly Ron has to catch her chair before it falls. They leave without saying goodbye and sit on the couch with Hermione on his lap, holding onto him and sobbing.

They spend New-Years Eve at the Burrow to be out of the city, and at midnight Hermione kisses him so desperately it makes Ron want to cry. They sit on a couch pulled up to the window holding hands as Bill and Charlie set off fireworks. Ron casts a silencing spell so they can see the light but can’t hear the bangs.

Two weeks after the year the year begins, it warms up suddenly and the snow melts away. They open the house up and dry it out, finally able to be lived in again. Hermione takes her chair but begins to talk to him and though it’s bad while it’s cold, the air eventually warms and things begin to settle.

 

Spring arrives and they get swept into plans for Ginny and Harry’s wedding. Hermione cooks him dinner when she can, but more nights than not he finds her at the flat or the Burrow, reading off invitations and helping with seating charts. She kisses him like she means it and one weekend with the wedding a month away, insists they replant the garden, most of their plants lost to the storm or when the workers replaced their windows. Ron watches her laugh and feels like the winter was finally over.

The week before the wedding he barely sees her. At Molly’s insistence, Harry had been banished from their home and spent the night in their spare bedroom while Hermione fell asleep at Ginny’s more nights than not. When they see each other her face lights up and throws her arms around him like it’s been weeks rather than hours. It makes him feel special, particularly when she lets him take her into his old bedroom and shoves him against the bed.

He tells her he loves her and she smiles when she tells him back. The day before the wedding he doesn’t see her once, and while they get ready in separate rooms of the Burrow and his mother keeps shooing him away, they manage to sneak away long enough for him to admire her dress and kiss her bare shoulders before they’re caught and he wishes they could have hours alone.  
The wedding is beautiful. Ron can’t keep her eyes off of her, basking in a glow of Hermione and though it’s been two years since they found her, it finally feels like she’s back. They hold hands through dinner and chat with friends. Hermione even dances with Neville, who returns her with an easy smile and an apology for stepping on her toes. When the night dwindles down and everyone is pleasantly drunk and dizzy, they go for a walk. The night sky is dark, but the near summer air is cooler than the hot air of the tent.

“I love you,” Hermione says when they stop at the ridge of a hill, music wafting behind them.

He smiles at her, gaining his courage and reaches into his pocket, holding onto the box he’d so carefully picked out. Turning to her, he smiles. “Will you marry me?”

“I’ve already agreed to,” she teases with an easy smile and it lightens his heart.

“Yeah,” Ron answers, pulling the box out of his pocket and bending down on one knee. “And this time I mean to follow through.” The surprise in her eyes is organic, as is the smile on her face and tears in her eyes. “Hermione Granger will you-“

“Yes,” she interrupts, tackling him in a kiss and he holds her so tightly in a way that feels like all of those years ago.

“Marry me?” he asks when she pulls away, breathless.

“Yes,” she says again as they sit up and he opens the box, pulling the ring and finally sliding it onto her finger. She beams, admiring the ring and then looking at him. “Next year, in the fall,” she tells him automatically when he stands, helping her to her feet.

“Why not this year?” he questions, not particularly caring when they get married. He knows they will.

For a moment she considers it, brushing the dirt from her dress and taking his wand to cast a cleaning spell on them both. She shrugs, slipping the wand back into his pocket and taking his hand again. “Alright then.”

They take their time walking back, talking about their wedding and life, about when they’ll tell people and who they absolutely won’t invite. Their conversation is natural and familiar and though he doesn’t take another sip, Ron feels drunk the rest of the night. They don’t tell anyone, but Ginny notices right away, demanding the story and is upset when Harry comes to take her away before they finish talking. Still hand in hand they wave the happy Potter’s away and return home, their clothes on the floor before they can even get up the stairs.

The next morning she’s still there and he wakes to catch her admiring the ring and smiling about it. When she looks over at him staring at her she smiles and kisses him, talking about their plans for the garden and finally redecorating the spare bedroom had been lost in the snow storm. Hermione still gets sad when they can’t see the sun, but the good days last longer and he’s no longer afraid to leave her alone at night.


	3. The Third Year

When the summer is at it’s hottest Ron comes home to Hermione watering the daisies they’d planted, a large sun hat on her head and a smudge of dirt on the side of her face. He can feel there’s something she wants to tell him from the moment he greets her, teasing her about the dirt and admiring her exposed legs, slowly taking on a summers tint. She doesn’t tell him until dinner, take out from the pizza place a town over and a salad from the tomatoes Hermione had somehow nursed back to life.

“I want to get a wand.” She says finally when his drink is up at his lips.

He smiles before he can swallow, water leaking out from his mouth and dribbling down his chin. She chuckles, taking the napkin from her lap to wipe away the water.

“What do you think?” she asks when he doesn’t respond.

“I think it’s great.” He answers, appreciating her shy smile and takes her hand.

Ollivander, who’d been training an apprentice since the war had ended and spent little time in his shop anymore, was more than happy to hear from them. And when Harry asked him to stay open late for them, he readily agreed. A week later, a little past nine on a Tuesday night they left from dinner at George’s flat above the shop and crossed the empty streets hand in hand. Ollivander greeted them with enthusiasm but was unable to meet Hermione’s eyes. She doesn't seem to notice, staring at the walls of wands with the same wonder as she had when she was a child, stepping into the shop for the first time.

He doesn't ask about much as he worked, taking measurements and instructing his assistant to get wand after wand. A steady pile grew of wands grew on the chair until finally, Ollivander sighed, looking at her fully for the first time with a hand on his chin.

“You’re stumping me, my dear,” he sighed in deep thought and Ron could feel Hermione shying into his side. He looks at her for perhaps a minute more while his apprentice chattered on, before finally waving his hand and gave her a sad look, disappearing into the stacks.

Harry and Ron shared a confused look, hearing a pounding from the back of the shop until he comes back slowly, coughing from the dust and set the box down in front of her. Hermione looks at him curiously and removed the lid, picking up the wand delicately and gripping it as if it would snap in her hands. It was immediately evident this was what they'd been waiting for. Hermione’s face formed a perfect ‘o’ and she beamed up at Ollivander who’s somber expression hadn’t changed. Carefully Hermione cast a simple levitation charm before grinning at Ron and Harry who was still watching Ollivander.

“There’s a relationship, between someone who’s been tortured and their captor’s magic. It’s not something readily studied,” he tells her slowly with an intense look, “We don’t like to think about it.”

Hermione seemed rooted to the place, staring at him expressionlessly. She looks down at the wand in her hands and with the same careful hands set it back into its box.

“How much?” she asks of him in a bland voice and he shook his head when Ron reached for his wallet.

“You saved my life,” he said and Hermione blinked, looking at him and then up to Ron and Harry worriedly. “I could never repay you.”

“I don’t understand.” Hermione plainly replied, taking Ron’s hand worriedly. There was a pregnant pause as Harry moved closer, wrapping his arm around her and Hermione looks between them for an explanation.

“Not here.” Ron finally whispers and she stares for a moment more before a thought dawns on her face and she nods, sinking into his side.

Ten minutes later they are back at the house, Harry stumbling out of the floo after them and sat on the couch beside Hermione while Ron paced the room, checking their defenses needlessly. They watched him for a minute more before Harry croaked out his name. Ron doesn't turn, his pacing hurrying until finally, Hermione let out a sob which brought him to his knees before her.

Harry wrapped his arms around her as Ron held onto her legs with one arm, the other hand pressed against her face. For perhaps a quarter of an hour she sobs, wiping her face with the cloth Harry grabs from the kitchen and refuses to let go of Ron’s hand. Drinks are poured, and she calms, laying against Ron’s chest on the couch while Harry sat in Hermione’s chair across from them.

“I need to know,” she whispers in a voice so quiet they nearly missed it. She wipes the tears from her eyes and stared at them both. “I need to.”

They look at each other helplessly, and finally, Harry speaks. He tells her about how they'd been thrown in the dungeon where Luna and Ollivander had been kept. How Ron had screamed her name and Luna and sawed them free. Dobby coming from a man in a mirror they later discovered to be Abaforth, Dumbledore’s brother. They’d sent the rest away and watched as Petigrew killed himself in the same cowardly way he’d lived. They’d broken free and been so close to saving her when-

Harry doesn't finish the story. Tears stream down his somber face no matter how much he wipes them away. They sit in silence until Hermione begins to speak. She tells them everything. Voldemort had arrived moments after they left, Narcissa bringing her back to life at the Dark Lord’s request. They’d tortured her to get information out, what they’d been doing and how they’d gotten a replication of the sword. Hermione had lied for them, making up a story about how they’d been looking for a way to kill Voldemort, something more powerful.

By the time the Death Eater’s grew bored and began talks of drawing Harry out with Hermione, the war ended and their leaders were dead. In turn, Hermione had turned into something much more sinister. Instead of being an asset, she turn into the place they took out their frustrations. From time to time plans had been made to use her against Harry, but no one left was intelligent to design a plan. Instead, they passed her around from house to house, using her and maiming her as they please with the distant plan of dropping her on Harry’s doorstep alive only enough to tell the stories of what they'll done.

She’d been close to dying when they arrived. Never merciful enough to let her die, they kept her only just alive to scream at night and stare blankly during the day, cursed to wander the house and never leave it. When they burst through the door for the first time she thought herself dead, the aurors angels to escort her to whatever comes next. Instead, they entered the room and she realizedshe was still cursed with life.

For hours they sat in front of the dying fire, sobbing every time one of them said anything or tried to move. Eventually, they went to bed, Ron sleeping on one side and Harry on the other. They awoke mid-day feeling hungover and a heaviness which made Ron want to stay in bed all day. Harry went home in the morning only long enough to tell Ginny he was alright and to call them in sick before returning and passing out again with them. They slept on and off for hours, waking when one of them sobbed and when the sun sat again it was Hermione who made them get out of bed when Ginny stopped by looking worried, and a casserole in hand. Harry made coffee, and Hermione forced herself not to cry when they sat eating in silence.

They’d never talked about it and Ron wasn’t really sure talking about it had made it any better. Harry and Ginny go home and they sit cuddled in front of the fire despite the warm air outside. There’s not much left to be said.

 

 

The next week is rough, Ron actually gets sick at work and is unable to go home and lay in bed like he wishes. Hermione forces herself to get out of bed each morning. At first, she just sits in her chair, looking out the window at the tree who’s stump still sits. But within days the wilting plants call to her and she goes out, gardening and getting rid of a gnome somehow found it’s way to her garden. It bites her before she can chuck it away, and helplessly she looks to the wand sits on the counter, untouched.

For the first time since her rescue, new emotions emerge. Frustration which makes her want to cry but also anger which makes her stomp into the house, and heal her hand with such a powerful spell it stings for several minutes. Her anger doesn’t end, and panting she marshes outside, angrily casting spells at the stump still eating away at the otherwise growing forest. When Ron gets home the stump sits in blasted chunks all around and Hermione is panting with effort.

He watches her from a distance with crossed arms until she finally gives up, screaming in frustration, head thrown back and arms outstretched. She screams herself hoarse before finally looking around and seeing him. Helplessly she stares at him, face red and splotchy looking about to burst. Carefully he walks over, wrapping his arms around her while she pants and shouts things at random. Curse words he doesn't even know she knew fly into the evening air for what feels like an hour and she hits him though he knows he doesn’t want her to let go until finally, exhaustion overcomes her and she collapses in his arms.

Ron draws a bath and leaves her to make dinner, bringing it to her and he sits on the corner of the tub, watching her eat with a forsaken expression. Still, he doesn’t know what to say and when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. Every hour he wakes in a panic, looking at her to calm himself with images of the terrible stories she’d told still on his mind. He doesn’t know how she handles it, still alive and well and breathing. Finally, he falls into a fitful sleep, worried when he wakes she’ll be far away again.

Instead, he wakes to the smell of schoarced eggs and sleepily goes downstairs to Hermione, panicking to get the pans off the stove, an array of books and parchment spread across the counter.

“What’s this?” Ron asks, picking up a paper at random. The paper is thick and Hermione’s tiny scroll fills the page, writing about something far above his head.

“Morning,” she answers, handing him a cup of coffee and he sinks into a chair, still trying to decipher what her writing meant. “I couldn’t sleep, so I popped over and borrowed some of Ginny’s books.”

He looks over at the open book still on the counter and the stack of heavy looking and dusty books beside it. “Hang-on,” he says when he’s finally awake enough to understand. “Are these textbooks?”

Hermione nods, setting a plate in front of him and snatching the parchment from his hands. “I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, trying to sit my NEWTS. I’m terribly behind, but I borrowed these to see how far away I’d be.”

“You can do that?” he asks, still staring at her.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, setting her cup of coffee on the table and then sinks in a chair beside him, resting her foot up on his seat. “But if they’re going to make an exception for anyone.” She grins at him, blushing in a bashful way. “McGonagall’s always been fond of me, she might be able to pull a few strings. Either way I want to learn it, I’m not going to let them take the rest of my life away.”

“You’re brilliant Hermione Granger.” He told her, reaching out to caress her face.

Her smile is pure and she kisses his palm before he retracts it to pick up his fork and take a particularly large bite of the eggsHermione salvaged.

The next week she spends writing letters and visiting with people, even going to the ministry with Ron one morning for a visit with Kingsley. As it turns out there is no program for adult students and there’s a limit of being younger than 20 when they can sit the exam without an exception. Hermione is granted this exception by Hogwarts under McGonagall’s suburb recommendation, Gawain’s letter, and Kingsley’s adamant approval when the case comes under review by the Wizarding Examinations Authority. They finally come to the compromise she must complete her missing year of school and Hermione is expected to turn in all of her coursework and meet weekly with the Headmistress and any necessary professors to review her progress. 

Hermione is elated and they go out to a restaurant Kingsley recommended personally to celebrate. It’s the nicest place Ron has ever been and feels underdressed though the dress Hermione bought is more than appropriate. She looks too pretty to touch and he can’t keep his eyes off of him even when the best-cooked steak he’s ever seen is placed in front of him.

They order dessert and hold hands on the table, talking for the first time since Hermione got a wand about their wedding.

“You still want to get married?” he asks of her and she smiles, nodding.

“Of course.” She says, but there’s something she’s holding back.

“But?” he asks, knowing what her answer is going to be and she squeezes his hand and seems bashful.

“But maybe we should wait until next year.” She says and gives an uncertain smile. “I’d really hate to be in the middle of school and not be able to take a week or two off.” Biting her lip she looks up at him. “Would that make you mad?”

“Why would that make me mad?” he answers honestly, giving an easy shrug. “I always thought you’d finish school before you ever settled down with me.”

“I’m already settled down with you.” She teased.

“Nah,” he grins.

“I’ve been yours for ages,” she tells him seriously, intertwining their fingers. “I was settled down with you before you even noticedI was a girl.”

“Oi, I’ve always known you’re a girl.” He answers and she gives him a knowing look. “Alright then, I’ve known you’ve been a girl since I got confusing feelings for you in the fourth year.”

“Confusing?” she asks with raised eyebrows.

“Well, yeah. You were my best mate.” He explains quickly before she can make too much of it. “The things I felt for you is definitely something I shouldn’t be feeling for a best mate.”

She doesn’t know how to process this and settles for a smile. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I felt those feelings too.”

Ron gets promoted in July and on September 1st he comes home to Hermione furiously studying away, scribbling essays and revising. Gently he reminds her the term doesn’t start until the next day and she gives him a glare so frightening he feels a need to clean the entire house. By the end of the third week she’s so ahead at her meeting with McGonagall, Hermione’s begged to slow down. She’s so far ahead the teachers haven’t even planned out the curriculum yet and even if she doesn’t do any work until Halloween she’ll still be miles ages ahead of the other students. She tells him this blushing so brightly he can’t even bring himself to tease her. Though he does have a good laugh about it with Harry the next day.

To bide her time Hermione revises, but she has much more time to cook and clean, doing the things she did before. She visits Ginny, who tells them in private she is going to take a season off and it takes Ron a full minute to realizes what she means, and has tea with Angelina once a month, planning again their wedding and perfecting spells for George when he sees her tinkering with something in the back of his shop. Mid-October, one year from their wedding Ron can feel she has something to say from the moment he exits his post work shower.

Hermione’s sitting on their bed when he exits the loo and is almost bursting with a new idea. “I want to start looking for my parents.” He is stunned, half expecting Angelina and his mother having finally talking her into a big wedding they'd been edging for. “I know it’s a long shot, and even if we find them there’s no guarantee they’ll ever get their memories back, but if they can be at our wedding-“

“I’ll talk to Gawain in the morning,” he promises, sitting next to her still in his towel, hopeful. “I know there used to be some aurors dedicated to reuniting families and at any rat,e he’ll have an idea of where to begin.” He takes her hand and admires the ring on it.

“One year.” She reminds him with a grin, kissing him so fiercely it doesn’t take any convincing.

Hermione stops by at lunch, and Gawain makes time to listen to them, Harry standing near the door looking guilty. They explain what Hermione did, and Gawain doesn’t comment on the legality of the situation. Instead, he tells them the aurors originally assigned have mostly gone on to other duties or are still working cases. He promises to send a few owls and should have an answer in a few weeks.

 

It’s November. Ron comes home to an elaborate meal and Hermione so excited he can barely hold her when she wraps her arms around him the moment he walks in the door.

“What’s going on?” he asks and for a moment she gives him a sour look.

“I’ve got a surprise, how did you know?” she pouts but he kisses her, holding her tighter and turns to look at the meal. She blushes, but the smile is back on her face so bright he can barely stand it.

“Go on then,” he encourages, setting her back on the ground finally and bending down to pick up the jacket he’d dropped but Hermione takes it and flings it at the couch.

He can tell she’s bursting with excitement, but restrains herself, taking his hand and leading him over to the table. They haven’t even sat down before she’s bouncing in her seat with the same child-like grin on her face.

“We might have to move the wedding up a bit.” She tells him, still restrained and for a moment he thinks they’ve found her parents though he knows better than to ask this.

“Yeah?” he encourages, taking a drink of water and looking at her.

“I’m pregnant.”

He chokes on his water in his haste, jumping up and taking her into his arms again. “Brilliant!” he says loudly when he can breathe and Hermione’s laugh rings in his ears. “ means he’ll be starting at the same time as Harry’s.”

“What makes you think it’s going to be a boy?” she asks but allows him to kiss her.

“Weasley’s have boys,” he answers and she laughs.

“Half of the grandkids are girls,” she corrects and he shrugs, putting a hand on her abdomen.

“I dunno, I just have a feeling.”

“Wanna bet Weasley?”

They never find out the gender. They don’t even get a chance to tell anyone. Ginny arrives at the aurors office in the middle of the day with tears running down her face and begs Gawain to let them go with her. Hermione's already in operation when they get there and Ron presses his face to the glass and watches with tears running down his face. She looks so peaceful in her sleep. In recovery, Gawain visits just after midnight.

“I know this isn’t the right time,” he begins when Ron exits the room silently and stands in the doorway, one eye still on Hermione. “But I have news on the Grangers.”

Muggle records had been found on them. A house they rented, the office Mr. Granger worked in and the coffee shop where Mrs. Granger was a regular, drinking tea and working on a novel. Until one day they simply disappear. Gawain promises to press harder but Ron already knows the answer.

The healer tells them this is not abnormal. But when Hermione is examined, the shock on the mediwitch’s face is evident. They shouldn’t have gotten pregnant. If Hermione ever manages to carry to term it will involve a lot of work and care. They leave with as many potions as Hermione had when she was first rescued and the prescription of bed rest for at least a month. They cancel all of their plans until Christmas and every day Ron runs home worriedly.

Hermione takes it all in stride, keeping her potions straight when Ron can’t. They tell only Harry and Ginny and swear them to secrecy. Ginny feels guilty and spends most of her time tending to Hermione who is adamant about not needing her care. By the end of the second week, she’s moving around doing simple things.

Reluctantly they go to the Burrow for Christmas. Ginny’s beginning to show, Molly is 2, and Fred is beginning to babble. At dinner, Bill announces their third, Percy announces the same. Drinks are poured and everyone hugs them. Ron grips the wrong end of his butter knife so tightlyHermione has to give him seven stitches and Harry cleans up the blood before anyone sees.

They go home before pie is served and sit on the floor in front of the couch, drinking from a bottle of wine Hermione swiped from the Burrow. Ron doesn’t know he’s crying until Hermione is kissing his tears away and she sits on his lap facing him while he sobs. They fall asleep in front of the fire, cuddled on the rug. In the morning light, he wakes to Hermione staring at him with a worried expression.

“Do you still want to marry me?” she asks and he puts a hand on her face.

“Of course,” he answers automatically, not even considering it for a moment.

“Even if I can’t give you a child?”

His heart breaks at her wobbling tone and he wraps his bare arms around her, kissing the top of her head as she starts to cry. “I can live without kids,” he tells her and she looks up at him. “I can’t live without you.”

They stay drunk for most of the next day, only sobering up long enough to go back to the burrow and apologize to Ron’s parents and in private and explain what happened. Arthur holds his son and cries while Molly wraps her arms around Hermione and whispers words of encouragement. They leave with more food than their empty fridge can hold and spend the rest of the afternoon eating straight out of the containers with a spoon and fork between them. Though they'll promised not to give each other presents, Hermione presents Ron with a bottle of muggle whiskey she promises not to take a sip of and Ron produces a diamond necklace makes Hermione cry.

Ron has to work on New Year's Eve, sitting in the ministry and going out on house calls when drunk wizards escape into the muggle world. He hates this night, but at least Harry is stuck with him leaving the girls to make plans they won’t tell them about and giggle every time Ron or Harry try to get it out of them. They deal with routine calls, the one nice thing about this night is it’s easy to pass off to the muggles. Their shift ends at five, so at a quarter till they get called out to Bristol where there are reports of a man wearing only a wizards hat (not on his head) running through a muggle area. Harry and Ron rush over with hopes of still leaving when their replacements arrive.

The perpetrator is a nineteen-year-old wizard who’d been dared by his friends to spend half an hour out in the cold in exchange for whatever was in their pockets. The prize ended up being two decks of exploding snap, one half eaten licorice, three gallons, and a coupon for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes which had already expired. The boy seemed overly determined to win the bet despite Ron and Harry’s attempt at a compromise which at one point included whatever the boy could carry out of George’s shop.

The next ten minutes are spent relentlessly chasing the boy, unable to use magic for fear of a muggle spotting them. The boy was much faster than them, dogging their attempts and tactical maneuvers. Frustrated, freezing, and looking forward only to seeing his fiancee before passing out, Ron finally grew angry enough to sprint at the boy. It caught him off guard, and he was frozen in place as Ron lunged. He snapped back at the last second, flicking his wand with a worried expression. The spell knocked Ron to the ground momentarily but it gave Harry the distraction to pin the boy on the ground and bind him. His hat had been lost in the progression, and he lay moaning in pain as Harry went to check on Ron.

“You alright mate?” Harry asks, offering a hand to pull Ron up.

Ron grunted, rolling his shoulder where he’d been hit as he stood. “We are not as young as we used to be.” He said with a shiver, feeling suddenly much colder than before.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said as they bent down to pull the boy to his feet. “Was like a morning jog.”

They don't end up leaving until six in the morning. The young boy, named Hubert Smith, refused to tell them anything until he sobered when he suddenly realized who they are and the mistake he’d made. He cried when calling his father to comes to pick him up, wand confiscated until he was sentenced. Their story had been the best of the night and found themselves so rounded by a steady stream of people dying to hear it much to the embarrassment of their new friend Hubert.

When Ron finally got home and showered, Hermione was passed out on the bed wearing an outfit he swore he’d had a dream about. He woke her up to change into something more comfortable with the promise of another night and fell asleep under a dozen blankets. The next two days no matter what he tried Ron couldn’t seem to get warm. He shivered in the afternoon as he got ready for work, warming his hands by the fire when Hermione wasn’t looking. At work, he doesn't take off his jacket all day and walked all around the ministry in an attempt to get warm. Hermione noticed the momenthe got home and demanded he sees a healer the next day. Only wanting to go to bed he readily agreed, passing out with three pairs of socks and two jumpers on.

A month later he wakes up screaming Hermione’s name.


	4. The Fourth Year

A healer explains what had happened. The curse, a normally harmless cooling charm, had hit him right above his heart. His autoimmune system had been compromised already with a cold, but the curse had done enough damage they'd put him in a magically induced coma until he could recover. Hermione arrived ten minutes after he’d woken up, fresh out of bed and bags under her eyes.

Once certain he was going to live she takes the seat at the side of his bed and his hands in hers. “I can’t believe you didn’t go to a healer right away.”

“I missed you too,” he answers jokingly, tugging at her to join him on his bed.

“I’m serious if I hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night-“

“Hermione.”

“-and had this feelingI need to wake you up-“

“Hermione.”

“-who knows how much more damage you could have sustained!”

“Hermione.”

“What?” she snapped, looking at him with big worried eyes.

He smiled at her, kissing the back of her hand. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you prat.” She answers him quickly. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Come up here.”

Hermione looked at him for a moment before sighing, checking to see there was no one to lecture them at the door, and climbed in bed beside him, carefully laying her head on her chest. Tenderly he kissed the top of her head and brushed away her hair with a trembling hand.

“I’ve been worried sick about you,” she repeated, looking up at him and gently stroked his stubbled chin. “We all have been.”

He doesn't know what to say, feeling still quite exhausted and like he’d been hit by a bat-bogy curse all over. “Poor Harry.” He mused and Hermione looks at him curiously. “If the first thing I get waking out of a coma is a lecture-“

“I’m not lecturing you-“

“I can only imagine what he heard from you.” He finished and Hermione blushed.

“I may have overreacted a bit at first.” She replied and he chuckled which turn into a deep cough. “We all might have.”

“All?” he questioned and then shook his head. “I take it Ginny wasn’t pleased either.”

“Or your mother,” Hermione finished for him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Harry look so frightened. George says he’d never seem your mum yell like that, even to him.”

“Poor Harry,” he repeated, laying his head back against the pillow. He could feel Hermione’s worried eyes on him.

“Let me give you a bit more space.” She said, making a move to get up.

Weakly, Ron pulled at her, becoming slowly more aware of what little strength he had left. “Come on, stay.” She looks at him worriedly. “I’ve had a bed to myself for a month now. I don’t know what to do with all of these covers staying on my side.”

His mother bursts into the room in the morning, crying and hugging him while Hermione nearly falls out of bed and tries to turn on the lights. She stays most of the day, taking care of them until Ron finally requests a home cooked meal and she leaves, promising him something that night. His parents come for dinner, and they crowd his room, eating and talking about all he’s missed.

George and Bill put Victorie on a broom. She broke her arm and Fleur told them if they dared to puts her on another broom without her permission there won’t be another child for either of them. Her promise rings true until Victorie cries watching Teddy on his toy broom and Fleur finally gives in, running after her with her wand ready with a cushioning charm.

During recovery, Ron feels helpless. His month out makes him forget how to do anything. He trembles so badly it wakes him up in the night and is unable to take a drink without spilling water all over himself. Hermione is more than patient with him. She helps him get dressed in the morning and practices throwing around a muggle ball with him. He can barely walk with a walker, and when he wants to get out of his room, Hermione pushes him around in a wheelchair, not complaining even when he makes her steal him extra ice-cream from the carts in the hallways.

Harry stops by after work every day, apologizing profusely each time until Ron gets so frustrated he threatens to let Hermione curse him into next week. He doesn’t say anything after, but eyes Hermione suspiciously the rest of the week.

Valentine's day comes and with the help of Harry and his mum, Ron manages to piece together a picnic for them. Hermione feeds him chocolate on the roof where she’s positive they’re not allowed, but neither of them cries.

The next morning Gawain stops by with an update on the investigation. They’ve been found at the bottom of the sea after driving off the side of a cliff. No foul play, magic or muggle, is suspected. Gawain promises to investigate farther. Hermione doesn’t cry, but throws herself further into her school work and helping Ron heal. She pushes him so hard one of the healers snaps at her and she yells at the young witch for 20 minutes. Harry has to pull her back into the room while Ginny pulls the sobbing witch away.

Ron checks himself out for the night and they go to the Potter’s, sitting in the middle of their unfinished home. They eat pie and Hermione sobs, telling stories of life before Hogwarts. They laugh at nothing and in the morning Ron’s parents come over and help Hermione plan a funeral. It’s small. Only the Weasleys, Neville, Luna, and Gawain. They’re buried in the cemetery around the corner from Hermione’s childhood home.

They go back to the Burrow and sit in the living room, one by one going to bed until only Harry and they remain. They’re drunk again, and Hermione’s cuddled with Harry at the head of the converted sofa while Ron lounges next to them.

“I’m so sorry Hermione,” Harry finally says once certain George, who’d been entertaining them for the past hour with stories of angry customers, had gone to bed.

She turns to him, shaking her head with tears in her eyes. “This had nothing to do with you, with any of us.” She pauses, taking Ron’s hand who rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “They are going to die eventually.”

“Hermione,” he whispered, tears leaking from his eyes, unable to stop them. “If it hadn’t been-“

For a moment they stare at one another and then, finally, she breaks down again, gripping at Ron’s hand and Harry’s arms to wrap tightly around her.“If it hadn’t been for what we'd done,” she began, taking a steadying breath. “Then worse would have come to them. This way at least they don't see me as I am now.”

Ron’s sharp breath of air diverts her attention. “They would have been so proud of you,” he told her, “Hermione, everything you’ve done. It’s incredible.”

She shook her head slowly. “I didn't even want to be rescued.” The silence after her statement rings in Ron’s ears and it feels once more like his heart had been pulled from his chest. “I spent the first year wishing I was back there so I could have died. I’m glad I’m alive now, but it took me so long to want to be.” Helplessly he takes her hand in his and kisses the soft skin of the back of her hand. “I wouldn’t have wanted them to see me like .”

He stays in the hospital another month until the weather begins to warm and he feels increasingly anxious. He tells this to Hermione who listens and pats his hand, feeling just as helpless as he. Two days before his birthday he’s finally released. He still has to go back for therapy twice a week and is told to stay in bed as much as possible, but when he hobbles on a cane to the portkeyGawain secured, he can’t wipe the smile from his face.

Harry and George helped bring the bed downstairs, Ron still unable to walk up or down them, and it sits in the middle of the living room, pushing their couch into the dining room and Hermione’s chair is stored at Harry’s house. Hermione keeps him up on his medication, and he watches her work during the day, growing bored enough he begins to read her textbooks and reading over her essays though he never seems to catch her mistakes.

April comes, Ron can now dress in the morning and tie his shoes. He still sleeps half the day, but in the afternoon sits on the porch and looks out at their land, imagining a swing set and small quidditch hoops his nieces and nephews can practice on. His shares his vision with George and Harry who are both eager to get started, they and Bill all slowly building a Weasley Quidditch team. Hermione shakes her head but doesn’t oppose. She, however, puts her foot down when George starts talking about using their field for testing of new products. Louis is born at the end of the month. They go with Harry and Ginny to visit one free weekend and for just a moment while holding the newest Weasley child, Ron doesn’t tremble.

By May Ron can walk up the stairs and leaves his cane resting against the porch while working in the garden. He finally convinces Hermione to let him go back to work part-time in the office. Gawain has him doing reading reports for errors (he also angryRon doesn't go to a healer right away), but it’s better than reading Hermione’s history of magic essays so he doesn’t complain.

They receive the results of the investigation. No foul play. Hermione says it doesn’t bother her, but the secondMolly walks through the door, dropping off dinner for the two Hermione bursts into tears and is inconsolable. She doesn’t get out of bed the next day and neither does Ron. Instead, they lay in bed, hand in hand with the lamps lit through the night.

“It’s better this way,” she whispers to him at half past three in the morning. Her eyes are puffy and swollen and face so pale in the firelight.

He doesn’t know what to say so instead he kisses her hand, keeping his eyes on hers.

“At least it wasn’t our fault.” Her voice breaks and just as soon she’s sobbing again. His heart breaks again as he takes her in his arms. Her instinct still after all this time is to fight and flee, scrambling against him for a moment before she can fight the urge and burrows herself in his chest.

“I love you Hermione-Jane.” He whispers, tears welling up in his own eyes. “Love you so much.”

She falls into a fitful sleep after almost three days without rest, but he can’t shut his eyes. Instead, he lies awake, still in this night as those words roll over and over again in his head: _wasn’t our fault_. He wonders briefly how much she’d blamed herself, and how much she still would no matter the findings of the investigation. If it was anything like the guilt he was feeling, the way they all felt he supposed. He and Harry had never talked about it because they simply couldn’t with her gone, and now that she’d returned, well, he supposedHermione was sad enough for the lot of them.

Ron hadn’t realized he was sobbing until Hermione’s blurry face was above his, wiping the tears from his face while simultaneously letting her tears drip onto the spots she’d just cleared. It takes all of his strength to lift his arms to reach for her and she lays down on his chest, sobbing in rhythm with him. Never had he felt so venerable and never had a moment felt so intimate.

“Why are you crying?” she whispers to him, hiccuping every other word.

Why was he crying? He couldn’t think of a proper answer as he pulls her closer, breathing in the sent of her vanilla scented shampoo.

She raises her head again, peering at him.

He opens his mouth to answer, to say anything, and all he can manage is suddenly heavy and shallow breathing. Tears suddenly stream down his face and no matter what he tries he can’t seem to get a word out or a breath in. Worriedly she stares at him until finally, he stammers, “I just don’t want it to feel like this anymore.”

Rejection fills Hermione’s face and Ron manages to grab onto her just as she begins to scramble out of bed. Confused she stares at him as he gently holds her arm, careful not to pull hard enough to even keep her there should she dart.

“Ron,” she whispers, but it’s different now, her voice is like it was all those years ago when she first came back.

His heart breaks all over as he forces himself to sit up and pulls her closer to his side. “I love you so much,” he whimpers and she softens, her joints no longer stiff. “I’ve loved you for so long Hermione, and I just-“ he pauses, panting with the effort. “I just want to give you the world. I want to give you everything ‘ermione and I can’t, I can’t even protect you-“

“Ron,” she whispers and he lets out another choked sob.

“No!” he grunts, shaking his head and wiping away tears with the backs of his hands, he can’t bring himself to look at her anymore, as if looking away would rid himself of the pain. “I can’t, and you know. I couldn’t protect you then and we both knowI can’t do it now.”

They sit in silence for a pregnant moment. Ron’s panting is so loud it echoes in his ears, and his tears still blind him making himself feel more hopeless. There’s a shuffling, and her warm hand leaves his and for a hopeless moment, Ron thinks she’s left him. In those few seconds, he doesn’t blame her, after all, he was useless to her.

When he was younger and when they are in the thick of war he would dream about their lives after the war. Their perfect and uninterrupted lives. Where, finally, he’d be able to protect her and be able to shield her from the harm in this world. There’d be no one chasing after them, but in the time since the war had ended he’d been absolutely rubbish.

He doesn't blame her for leaving in thatmoment. Since she’d been rescued he wasn’t sure he’d done anything positive for her at all. Desperately he opened his eyes and instantly his eyes caught hers. Tears made her eyes shine and at that moment she had never looked more beautiful. Her hands find his face and before he could react she was kissing him, his cheeks and the sides of his face until he could feel her wet lips on his and in that moment he felt as if he could finally breathe.

“I know,” she whispered in his ear as he slowly caught his breath. “I know this is hard, and I wouldn’t blame you if you considered leaving me. Because as much as I’d like to promise, I don’t thinkthis is ever going to become easier.”

He gave a strained smile. “I wouldn’t consider leaving you,” he whispered, “Not even for a second.”

“Talk to me Ron,” she says to him calmly, holding his hands in hers as they face each other at the head of their bed. “Tell me-“ she trails off, picking a strand of her hair off of his shoulder. “When did you become afraid to tell me how you felt?”

They talk for hours, about everything. For the first time since she’d return Ron finally isn’t afraid to say how he really feels. It was silly he supposes to shield her from his thoughts and feelings as he had been. In fact, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been hiding from her until he’s telling her secrets from the time they'd rescued her: how much he’d frightened her, how angry at Harry he was when he stopped coming round or how frustrated he’d get when she wouldn’t respond. He understood of course, but understanding did nothing to shelter the way he’d felt about the things she did or said or, as more often it was, doesn't say.

Hermione doesn’t say much, besides nodding and squeezing his hands when he speaks so fast he can barely understand himself. When he finally finishes speaking, his dry eyes burn and his face feels swollen. They lay side by side facing one another, holding hands as the sun creeps through their window and lays across the floor.

“I never knew,” Hermione said after a long stretch of quiet. Her voice is worn and words are stretched out. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“I’m sorry Hermione,” he answers, squeezing her hand gently.

“I couldn’t do it without you, you know,” she answers him, pulling his hand up and kissing it, her lips resting against his skin for a long moment. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, I hope you know.”

He doesn’t say another thing as she snuggles closer to him, her hair sneaking up his nose. She plants a long kiss on his chest and he grins, letting his eyes drift shut.

When he wakes, Hermione’s not there but instead, the smell of coffee drifts through the house. The sun’s just barely risen and a check of his watch shows it’s merely 7 o’clock. His chest is sore and his breath is sour but he forces himself to get up and splash water on his face.

“I was just about to come and wake you,” Hermione says as he emerges downstairs.

She stands in the kitchen pouring him a cup of coffee and he sits on the couch where he can tell she’d nested. Books are scattered about and the long document which she’d neglected for days has fresh ink on the scroll.Joining him with a fresh cup for the both of them, Hermione sits back down throwing a blanket over the both of them.

“You alright?” she asks him and he nods, still fighting the urge to fall back asleep.

“You?” he grunts and she smiles shyly at him. He lets out a long breath and then settles down, laying his head on her lap and stretching out. “I’m sorry.” He says quietly as Hermione sips her coffee.

Instantly she’s shaking her head, looking down at him and running a hand through his hair. “You have no reason to be.” She tells him, planting a kiss on his temple. “I love you, Ron.”

He can’t help but smile, and closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation of her hand running through his hair and the warmth of her cup where she rests it against his arm.

In June Hermione sits her NEWTS. The week before she’s a nervous wreck, unable to eat anything more than at tea when Ron forces her to puts down her notes for an hour. The night before she goes to bed at midnight, but when Ron wakes up at three she’s awake, studying her notes by wand light. He makes her breakfast, though she only drinks coffee, and sends her off with a kiss at nine. She comes home at four, cries in the shower, and falls asleep talking about her essay on the 5 Exceptions.

She passes with all Outstandings, the first in almost a century. At the party Molly hosts in her honor, Kinglsey tells them she has the highest score since the test’s creator’s daughter. Overnight Hermione has more job offers than Harry and for the next week, they have so many owls Hermione resorts to sitting by the window as not to let the droppings come in the house and Ron has to go out to get treats twice a day.

In the end, she decides to take the rest of the summer to consider her offers and interviews at the ministry. In the morning she goes in with Ron and Harry and Gawain personally introduces her to heads of departments. Finally, she decides to go to the department of magical law where she’s given her own office and a personal assistant Hermione doesn’t know what to do with.

On July 8th Harry shows up for work looking nervous and only when he ropes Hermione in for help does Ron learn Ginny’s labor started the night before though she refuses to go to the hospital. Harry refused to go to work until she threatened to hex him and Molly comes over to look after her. At lunch, Harry goes home and doesn’t come back but to tell Gawain what’s happened. After work, Ron and Hermione join them at the hospital where Ginny is impatient and Harry is so worried he can’t sit still.

They sit in a waiting room with Arthur and Angelina, still able to hear Ginny’s yelling through the walls. Finally, there’s quiet and the cries of a baby. Ten minutes later Harry comes out beaming.

“It’s a boy,” there are tears in his eyes and he hugs Ron and Hermione though they can feel him shaking under their touch. “Both healthy.”

When they finally are settled in, Ginny half asleep and Harry at her side, Hermione holds the baby for the first time with tears in her eyes. James coos and warps his hand around her finger.

“He’s beautiful,” Ron whispers in her ear, his arm around her as they sit side by side.

“Yeah,” Hermione agrees in a small voice, unable to remove her eyes. “One day-“

“It’s alright,” Ron interjects quickly, looking at her worriedly.

“One day.” She says again, looking at him briefly with a knowing smile.

Before he can do more than stare at her, she turns back to James and kisses his forehead. They go home talking about their wedding and don’t mention it again. But the next week he spots a pamphlet about conception and Hermione starts on a new medication which doesn’t let her drink. The healer tells them not to get their hopes up as the first step is repairing the damageHermione’s endured. But Hermione seems confident and Ron refuses to tell her no.


	5. Their Happy Ending

Their lives finally seem to settle. They go to work during the day and get lunch together when they can. By 6pm they make it a priority to go home together and Hermione reads cases to him while he cooks and they sip wine by the fireplace after dinner. On the weekends they go to farmers markets or visit with their newest nephew and help George with product development. The summer comes to a close too soon and before they know it September arrives and the date of their October wedding is in the double digits. Angelina and Ginny make more of a fuss than Hermione who seems to laugh away the details, inviting family and friends like it’s only a Saturday brunch. She picks only Ginny as a bridesmaid and Ron only chooses Harry and it almost doesn’t even feel like they are getting married until Hermione returns home late one Saturday crying.

“What’s wrong?” he insists as he drops the report he’d been reading in his haste to get to her.

Hermione says nothing, throwing her arms around him and holding him tightly. They stand together for a full minute, Hermione sobbing into his shoulder and he doesn’t even know what to say, looking over her best he could to see what was wrong but is unable to diagnose her ailment.

“Hermione?” he asks, a sinking feeling in his chest.

Her face emerges and there’s a smile. “I’m sorry,” she says with a small laugh and he lets out a nervous laugh to match hers. “Angelina and Molly are driving me mad.” She griminess. “And Ginny won’t stop feeling sorry for me about not being able to have kids.”

He kisses her forehead, setting her down and rubs her back encouragingly.

“I just want to marry you. I don’t know why this has to be so big of a deal.”

“It’s only a week longer.” He offered.

Hermione made a sour face at him. “And after we have two weeks off.” He brushed her hair onto one of her shoulders. “Just you and me.” He kissed her exposed neck and she made an appreciative noise. “No wedding planning, no family, just you and me and week on the beach.”

“Molly wants one of us to spend the week over at the burrow.” She whispered and he groaned loudly, taking his lips off of her exposed neck.

“’s rubbish, we’ve been living together for over three years now.” He muttered, clearly displeased.

“I’m not about to be the one to remind her,” Hermione told him, kissing his jaw and disentangling herself from him, standing up to check on the crockpot she’d set in the morning before she’d left for the burrow. “Besides, she managed to separate the rest of your siblings, I highly doubt we’re going to be the exception.”

Hermione volunteers to spend the week at Harry and Ginny’s in the end, sleeping in the spare bedroom next to the nursery where James is just now beginning to spend the night. She stays there for two nights before waking him in the middle of the third in a sour mood and cuddling beside him wordlessly. In the morning she’s gone with a note about not wanting to be caught and an offer to come over for the breakfast she’d be making and a rather dirty sentence at the end he could picture her blushing while writing.

He doesn’t see her again after breakfast until the following night at the rehearsal dinner. The only contact they'll been able to make was through hastily scribbled notes wishing each other good days in the mornings and filling each other in on the days events before they wish each other good night.

After work he and Harry head over to the Burrow. His mother runs around doing a dozen things at once and it’s all Ron can do to do his part. It seems hours have should have passed as he runs around, setting up chairs and tables, trying to stay out of the kitchen where his mother and Ginny cook up a storm, but when he checks to see what time it was he still had two hours before Hermione was due to arrive.

With a heavy sigh, Ron asks for his next task where his sister demands he straightens the broom shed. He verbally protests, “I’m getting married, not hosting a pickup match-“ but his sister sighs and shoves him out the door before he can finish his complaint. She winks at him, much to his confusion, but he sets off none the less, glad at least to get a few minutes in the fresh air and thankful for the quiet walk.

It doesn’t stop him from grumbling as he opens the shed, unaware someone was near until he was already bent over and picking up the quaffle that had fallen from the shelf.

“Now there’s a view I don’t mind,” said a voice from behind and Ron can’t stop the smile from splitting his face when he turns around.

He looks her up and down, still in her work clothing, her Wizengamot robe undone revealing a very flattering dress beneath. “Can’t complain myself,” he answers, taking her into his arms at once and kissing her briefly. “How was the trial?”

“Rubbish,” she answers, kissing him again as they swayed on the spot, her arms still around his neck. “I and everyone else could have told youhe was innocent before the trial even started and they still made me stay until the final votes are counted.” She frowned, looking him over. “I’m sorry, I really meant to get here earlier, I knew they'll drive you up the wall.”

“I was fine until Ginny made me come out here and-“ he trailed off at Hermione’s coy smile. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah,” she answers, walking towards him so he was forced back into the broom shed which barely had enough room for the two of them. “But your mine so I guessmakes you alright.”

Twenty minutes later they emerged, all of the quidditch apparel that’d been knocked from the walls back in its proper place and hand in hand walked back to the Burrow, Hermione’s robes slung over Ron’s arm. At the sight of them Molly immediately beings to fuss, ushering Hermione into the kitchen where she and Ginny giggled at one another and giving Ron another list of tasks.

They work until the moment guests start arriving when his mother ushers he and Harry up the stairs to puts on the clothes the girls had set aside for them. Together they wait up in the room for some time, trying to one-up each other on the worst task they'd been forced to do. When they finally make their way downstairs, the garden is filled with people, kids running around and at the sight of the two of them Victorie and Teddy run over, attempting to tackle Harry who manages to bend down just in time and lift the both of them up with ease. They squeal loudly as Harry lifts them over his head before setting them back down.

Ron chuckles as he looks around the garden, watching as people milled about. It seemed half the people would be attending their wedding are already there. He looks around for Hermione, but upon not finding her went to join George and Bill where they are passing out drinks to a growing group.

“There he is!” George shouted at the sight and began to cheer. “Man of the hour, ready for tonight?”

“Tonight?” Ron asks, accepting a glass of fire whiskey from Bill.

“Last night of freedom!” he said, putting his arm around Ron’s shoulders. “You only get one stag night.”

“You keep this up and you might get two,” Angelina said in a dangerous tone, emerging from where George had been standing. George blushed brilliantly and dropped his arm from around Ron, setting his glass down. “That’s the ticket,” she turned to Ron, kissing him on the cheek. “How are you dear? Where’s Hermione?”

“I’m alright,” he answered, “Hermione’s still getting ready, she should be down any minute now-“

Hturnsrn to look for her again as he spoke and as he did she emerged from the doorway. She was laughing with Ginny about something and at the sight of her, Ron couldn’t help but smile. She’d changed into a light pink dress and her hair was pulled back from her face. Looking around she caught his eyes and blushed, a small smile on her face.

“Go on then,” Angelina said, giving him a push and he walked over to her, feeling very much like he was fourteen again and at the Yule ball trying to work up the courage to ask her to dance.

Concentrating on not tripping he walked over to her, a stupid smile still on his face. They met halfway and Hermione looks breathless.

“Hi,” she whispered and he nods.

“You look amazing.” He told her insistently, taking her hand in his. They stood like that for a moment, staring stupidly at each other.

“We’re not alone you know.” She told him, looking around and blushing, pushing back a strand of hair. The tips of his ears turn red as he turns back to face his brothers and Harry who are watching with looks he was certain meant he’d be teased later. Begrudgingly they walked around, talking with Charlie who’d just arrived minutes before with stories of a dragon which had gotten loose and nearly been spotted by a local military base. Dinner was announced by Molly and they all gathered around the table where a feast was presented before them.

Dinner happens so fast Ron wishes there was someone taking notes. Speeches are given, and tears shed and before Ron knows it he’s pleasantly drunk and they’re wishing goodbye to guests they know they’ll see tomorrow. Before he knows it he is kissing Hermione goodbye and drink after drink is pushed into his hand.

 

“Come-on mate,” Harry tells him, putting an arm around his shoulders to steady him. “Let’s get you home.”

“Wait,” Ron slurs, struggling to stay upright. He takes a deep breath and then forces his eyes open to look at Harry. “I’ve, I’ve got to go and see Hermione.”

Harry shakes his head, looking down at his watch. “You’ll see her in less than twelve hours. I think a shower and a nights sleep should be our first priority.”

“No no no,” Ron answers, shaking his hand dramatically, so much so he nearly knocks over his chair. “I wanna see her tonight, I wanna make sureshe’s okay spending the night alone.”

“I’m sureshe’ll be fine, she’s spent the night alone for the last week,” Harry answers him, still trying to steer him towards the door.

Ron scoffs, “Ho, mate we haven’t spent a night apart in years.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about mate, you’ve spent the last week apart.”

“You really think so?” Ron asks him and then laughs loudly at his bewildered face. “Oh mate, I snuck over the first two nights and she’s snuck over since then.” He laughs loudly. “I can’t spend the night without her, I just spend all night thinking about her.”

Harry stares at him bewildered.

“I love her mate, I don’t wanna be apart from her.” Ron tells her, “Come on, we’ll just pop in and out. Five minutes, Ginny won’t even knowwe’re there-“

And before Harry can stop him he waves good-bye grabs Harry’s arm and steers him out of the pub, disaperating the moment they’re clear of the muggle street they'll end up on. It’s all Harry can do to follow him as Ron barges through the door.

“Ron, James is asleep,” Harry hisses, worried they'll wake his son not even a year old. “Try and keep it down-“

Ron nods stupidly, putting a finger to his own lips as he crashes through the house, walking noisily up the stairs until he’s in front of the spare bedroom where Hermione had been staying. Drawing a dramatic breath, Ron raises one hand and knocks quietly and then enters the room. Hermione is asleep, the lights still on and a book in hand. Smiling stupidly, he walks over, removing the book from her hands and sets it on the nightstand before pulling up the covers and kissing her on the forehead, whispering something to her. Once satisfied, Ron turns back to Harry and quietly walked out of the room, shutting off the lights and pulling the door closed softly behind him.

“Alright, let’s go then, big day tomorrow.”

Bewildered Harry nods, checking in briefly on his own wife who is sound asleep in their bedroom, and then together they depart for Ron and Hermione’s home.

 

“When Ron asks me to be his best man, my first thought was ‘I don’t even know why you’re asking, who else was it going to be?’” Harry began, pausing while the group chuckled, “And my second thought was “Bloody hell, what on earth am I going to say?”. Ron and Hermione are my first friends and still are the best people I have ever met. They are the two kindest, bravest and most loyal people I have ever known. If it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t be standing here today,” he looks back to them, a strangely sentimental look on his face. “And I am so so happy to be standing here today. I think I speak for a lot of us when I say I fearedthis day would never come.” He pauses, looking at them helplessly. With a smile and tears in her own eyes, Hermione reached out, taking his free hand in her own and squeezed it.

“Oh bloody hell,” Harry said, shaking his head and abandoning his papers. “I tried for weeks to puts into words how perfect Ron and Hermione are for each other and months trying to somehow talk about what they meant to me, but if I had those words, I know I wouldn’t get through them. So hears to Ron and Hermione. I hope you all know how much you matter to all of these people sitting before you today and I hope the rest of your lives are just as good as you deserve.”

 

Six months had passed since their wedding. Ron, after another month at the ministry, decided to take George’s offer after all and within six weeks of him starting sales had gone up by almost 8%. Percy, much to everyone’s delight including himself and Audrey, went back to work at the ministry, working closely with Hermione to find and abolish all anti-muggleborn laws. Hermione, in turn, was about to remove all traces of house elf laws and by the end of her first year working for the ministry was held in such high opinion with the Wizengamot she was given a permeant seat.

The Weasleys seemed to be over at their place more than ever and the mini quidditch fieldRon had envisioned was constructed in the early spring, ready for the summer when Teddy and Victorie are out of school and able to practice under the supervision of Harry and Charlie who was visiting for the summer. During the weeks they worked long hours, but they made it a point to spend their Saturdays together, whether it be alone or with the family, they cared for so deeply.

Since their wedding, both George and Angelina and Harry and Ginny had announced their pregnancies. George and Angelina, as it turns out, had found out just a week after the ceremony and she seemed to grow every timethey saw her. Ginny and Harry had announced two months later, telling Ron and Hermione with worried smiles even when they reacted with joy for their dear friends.

It was one of those SaturdaysRon came inside in the early afternoon to find Hermione scribbling furiously away at a scroll taller than her and a heavy book open before her. He smiled, standing in the doorway until his shadow distracted her, causing her to smile up at him.

“It’s Saturday,” he reminded her and she nods, looking guilty.

“I know, but the Wizengamot is only in session for one more week and-“

“We promised, no work Saturday afternoons.” He said, walking over and putting his arms around her, reading over her shoulder. “What are you working on?”

“Revising the Wizengamot code,” she answers, pulling out her wand to dry the ink so it wouldn’t smudge when she rolled up the scroll. “Did you knowpregnancy leave isn’t covered? According to the code if someone misses a month of trials they forfeit their seat never mindthe Ministry’s policy ispregnancy leave forbids consequences to females.”

He kissed her cheek, stepping back as she rolled up the scroll. She mutters something he doesn’t catch before joining him in the kitchen, pouring them both a glass of water from the fridge and looks over at him.

“What is it?” he asks with his thanks for his glass of water.

“I have an appointment with the pregnancy healer on Monday.” She tells him, not quite meeting his eyes and busied herself with filling the pitcher back up and putting it into the fridge.

Since they'd miscarried a year and a half prior Hermione had been visiting the healer on a regular basis, adjusting her medication regularly and while they hadn’t spoken about it in the six months they'd been married, Ron hadn’t particularly changed his opinion on the pregnancy. She’d stopped seeing the healer a month or two before the wedding, both of them deciding they wanted to spend the first few months of their marriage as worry-free as they could.

“I’d like you to come with me,” she finished, looking up at him finally. “The mediwitch thinkswe might have a chance of conceiving in thenextt year or so.” She pauses for a moment and then added, “Safely conceiving.”

It caught his attention. He doesn't say anything, though for the first time the idea of having a child seemed real and the voice in the back of his head which always seemed to scream for Hermione’s safety was strangely silent.

“Think you’d be able to take a long lunch?” she asks of him when he doesn't say anything, and he nods, throat strangely dry despite the water he’d been drinking. She beams, kissing his cheek as she moves to stand beside him.

The thought stays with him as they get ready for dinner at the Burrow and as Hermione holds James on her lap after dinner he can’t stop watching with intrigue while she is patient with him while he fusses and refuses to be put down. Monday comes before Ron can blink and before he knows it Hermione is stopping by at a quarter till noon met with George’s loud teasing about afternoon delight.

“I know it’s not a guarantee,” Hermione speaks quickly, gripping his hand as she lays on the examining table. It’s clear she’s much more nervous than he. “But you said last time -“

She goes on and on until the Mediwitch named Jaimie stops her with a smile and a laugh. “It’s alright Hermione, there’s no need to be nervous.”

Hermione blushes and Ron gives her hand an encouraging squeeze. Jaimie looks over the results of the scans they've done upon Hermione’s arrival and smiles.

“we'll just like to know if there’s anything morewe can be doing.” Ron says to fill the silence and Hermione smiles up at him briefly before returning her eyes to Jaimie, nervous. 

She doesn’t say anything, setting Hermione’s chart to the side and dimming the lights in the room. Nervously both Hermione and Ron stare at each other as she lifts Hermione’s shirt and spreads some gel onto Hermione’s stomach.

“I think you’ve done a pretty good job yourselves.” She told them, waving her wand over Hermione’s stomach so there was a display reflected on the wall. “Congratulations Hermione and Ron, you are pregnant.”

Speechless they look at each other again. Ron could feel his jaw had dropped wide open but couldn’t think suddenly how to close it. “I would say about 15 weeks along,” she said as the small picture of a baby as Ron had spied in Hermione’s child rearing and pregnancy books would depict. There was a distinct thuddingRon knew was the heartbeat.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said for them after a full minute.

“It’s not unheard of for pregnancies to go undetected for several months or even for the common side effects of pregnancy not to present.” She explained, waving her wand around still. “It appearseverything’s healthy, I’d like to get you started on a new regimen and would recommendyou cut back on your work.”

“I’m not even showing,” Hermione said, unable to take her eyes off the child projected before her. “Ginny’s not as far along and she’s twice as big.

“Every pregnancy is different, let’s just worry about you being healthy.” She said and Ron and Hermione stared at one another.

“Should it be healthy?” Ron finally asks, finding his voice after a very long silence. “I mean, I know it’s risky but,” he looks at Hermione worriedly.

“ We’ve been able to repair most of the damage which terminated the first pregnancy.” She smiled at them. “There’s no reason to believewith proper care it shouldn’t be a perfectly healthy, both mother and baby.”

Ron felt like the bubble had been blooming in his chest was dangerously close to popping. He grins at Hermione, resting his forehead against hers.

“Now,” Jaimie asks after Ron and Hermione had their moment. “Would you like to find out the gender?” 


End file.
